Not So Bad
by NotALifeToLive
Summary: What if Greta hadn't left Brahms after all? What if they'd had a night of passion resulting in the birth of a beautiful baby girl? What would Brahms thoughts on it be? Slight GretaxBrahms. BrahmsxOC!Daughter (Non-incest). Rated T for minor nudity and slight inappropriate content, but no lemon. Childishly innocent... Mostly. Cover picture does not belong to me.


_I'm sorry if it's an epic fail. I recently watched the movie and fell so in love with the story line and the characters and this was born. I hope neither Brahms or Greta are OOC. I tried to portray Brahms as a new father and adult as well as a jealous kid who doesn't like sharing his toys (Greta) to the point of despising his own child. To anyone following The Enemy, My Wife, I did start writing the next chapter and I'm going to try to go back to add more details and revise some of the dialogue. I hope to finish the story soon so I can move on to my others and finish._

 _What if Greta hadn't left Brahms after all? What if they'd had a night of passion resulting in the birth of a beautiful baby girl? What would Brahms thoughts on it be? Slight GretaxBrahms. BrahmsxOC (Non-incest). Rated T for nudity and slight inappropriate content, but no lemon, nor is it supposed to be sexual. Childishly innocent.. Mostly..._

 **Not So Bad**

Brahms didn't know what to think about the tiny creature resting in his old cradle. For one thing, it wouldn't stop complaining and whining, stealing all of Greta's attention away as she went to fetch a fresh nappy. She had left the unwilling father to watch over the little fuzzball.

Sure, the damn thing looked cute with its small tuffs of curly, dark locks just like it's father's and it's innocent gaze, but Brahms found it more creepy than cute. Ever since this THING had come along, Greta had been giving it all her attention and love, leaving her poor little Brahmsy to his lonesome.

Yeah, at first, when she told him the news, he'd been so excited. What new and lovely challenges would fatherhood present him? Things quickly turned sour in the first few days of pregnancy. Almost instantly, Greta had barricaded herself in the mansion and became borderline obsessed with the baby's survival. She wouldn't allow any sort of intimate actions aside from the occasional chaste kiss in fear of another miscarriage. She then became super moody and bipolar-like, switching from crying to laughing, to laughing to crying, to angry to sad again. The cycle repeats. Then there was the random bouts of puking and the constant conversations of the baby itself. After the first three months of that, Brahms had lost all interest in the baby and decided the pregnancy was a huge mistake, though he wouldn't admit so aloud, let alone to Greta. Not after her previous gestation with THAT man.

Brahms had been listening the day she told Malcolm of her former abusive relationship and her unfortunate miscarriage. It wasn't hard to deduce when Cole had shown up that he was the jackass who had impregnated her and forced her through living hell. For the first, he felt a blinding rage: absolute ire that another man had been allowed to touch his pretty Greta in such a way, but if the past pregnancy had been deserving enough of his wrath, the abuse had been deserving enough of the porcelain shard in that abhorrent man's throat.

The infant suddenly let out a loud, keening cry, startling Brahms from his thoughts. He shot her a glare behind his mask, hoping she'd somehow understand that the jump scare she had accomplished was rude and not to be tolerated in his house.

"Come on, Ally," his childish voice crooned, "Please stop that noise for daddy. You want to be a good girl, don't you?" When the unbearable cry refused to cease, he felt his self control escape him. His voice crept into a lower tenor as his anger seized him. "Alice Elizabeth Heelshire III, if you don't stop crying, so help me-"

"Brahms?" Greta's soft voice interrupted, her face appearing in the doorway. "What are you doing?"

He pointed his finger at the baby as if to incriminate her as the culprit. "She won't stop crying," he whined, his voice shifting now towards childish as he gripped his dark fringe. "Please stop her, Greta. She's not behaving or following the rules! She's supposed to be behaving!"

Entering the room and placing her hand upon his chest, her touch calmed him down.

"Well, she's a baby, Brahms. Baby's don't have rules yet because they can't understand them. Just calm down and let me deal with her. She's either hungry or she needs to be changed. It's okay. She'll stop crying in a minute."

Greta walked over to the cradle and scooped the child into her arms, checking her nappy to make sure it was clean. It was.

"She's hungry," Greta informed him, blushing as she felt him tug her shirt off her shoulders along with her bra-strap. Brahms didn't seem to see anything wrong with it as he gripped her breast and tried to move the wailing child towards it.

"Brahms!" Greta gasped, cheeks flaring at the touch.

Brahms stepped back, surprised. Greta pressed her lips together as she guided Alice to her awaiting breast. Within seconds, the crying ceased and Brahms' headache deflated greatly.

"I'm sorry I freaked out like that," Greta spoke over the suckling child, "but you scared me. A little warning would have been welcomed."

This time he remained silent as he nodded, glaring at the child again. While her tantrum may have halted, his jealousy still throbbed strong. Ever since she'd been conceived, he had become Greta's second, having been replaced by the babe as her first priority. He was a mere shadow to one who hadn't done anything of proper significance. Someone of no use stealing his Greta away. And she let her. Oh, how it boiled his blood. Just another reason to add to the long list of why the baby was a nuisance and a thorn in his side.

Without her, he and Greta would still be able to share long nights of passion without being interrupted. Without her, he'd be able to get a well deserved good night's rest instead of the average of three hours she allowed either of them. Without her, he'd have Greta all to himself and he wouldn't have to share. But it was more than that. Brahms didn't WANT to share his Greta, yet the nuisance felt entitled. What a little bitch. Even now, his Greta was ignoring him in favor of her "precious little Alice."

As Brahms continued to brood, Alice finished drinking her fill and Greta began bobbing her gently in hopes of getting her to sleep. Lulled by the soft humming of her mother, Alice drifted off into dreamy land, leaving her parents in peace.

Brahms was relieved the pest had finally given into Wonderland, and even Greta felt she could use a bit of a rest herself. Wanting nothing more than to relax and enjoy the rest of her night in peaceful quiet, she trudged off to bed and dropped herself onto the mattress, atop sheets and all. Brahms followed her into the room a moment later and began rubbing soothing shapes into her back. She gave a soft moan of pleasure that sent anticipation shooting down his spine for what he planned to do to her. Greta had been ignoring him and therefore his rules too. And because of that, she needed to be punished. She needed a reminder of who she belonged to. As he commenced the night of supreme passion, his mind was on nothing but making up for lost time and proving her time was more worthy spent on him than on that baby girl.

And just as he bared her down into the bed and discarded his mask in order to kiss her, as if by revenge, a familiar wail erupted around the mansion. Smiling apologetically, Greta pushed him off and rushed to the nursery to sooth the child, leaving a dazed Brahms still in bed. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself off bed and stalked into the baby's room, much less good mannered than her mother.

This time, Greta was in the middle of changing her as he entered the room. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she shot him a remorseful look. Clearly she had wanted to make love just as much as he did. This only added heat to the fire. Unable to hide his anger due to lack of his mask, his cold disposition did not go unnoticed.

Greta finished her task and laid her daughter back into the cradle and played Brahms' Lullaby for her. Seeing the baby content, she swayed her figure seductively as she walked over to her husband, rubbing her enlarge breasts (one of the pros of breastfeeding) against his chest.

"You've been such a good boy today," she whispered sexily near his ear as she began biting his neck. "I think you need a reward."

As Greta dragged him into their bedroom and locked the door behind him, Brahms knew he had his little creation to thank for this. For all her irritating and borderline annoying quirks, she made Greta glow with astounding happiness. For all the jealousy and insecurity she stirred within him, he couldn't truly denounce her as a mistake and mean it sincerely. For all the times he'd regret having made her, she was one of the reasons for his utmost happiness. All he could conclude was that through the ins and outs and the challenges that fatherhood possesses, he wouldn't give it up for the world. As fates go, it wasn't half bad.


End file.
